


when the night falls

by anniwndrrr



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 04:44:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anniwndrrr/pseuds/anniwndrrr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspired by this idea from <a href="http://hope163.tumblr.com/post/66511191912/fic-idea">hope163</a>. </p><p>disclaimer: i own nothing.</p>
    </blockquote>





	when the night falls

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this idea from [hope163](http://hope163.tumblr.com/post/66511191912/fic-idea). 
> 
> disclaimer: i own nothing.

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She is watching as the polished black coffin is lowered into a black whole in the ground by officers of the Boston Police Department. 

She is watching as Angela cries loud heart-wrenching sobs. 

She is watching when Frankie is catching his mother before she falls down on her knees mourning the loss of a child. 

She is watching Korsak wiping furiously at his eyes, trying to remain strong. 

She is watching how everyone gives their last well-fare, to one of the strongest persons she as ever known. 

To her only true friend.

To her family.

Without Jane she is nothing. Her body an empty shell.

She is still standing there when everyone else is already gone. Frankie’s pleading for her to come home with them has fallen on deaf ears.

She is still standing there when heaven opens its doors and rain is pouring down on her, drenching her black coat and boots.

She is still standing there when dusk settles and the world is fading to black.

 

When she can’t feel her fingers and toes anymore, she takes a few shaking steps and kneels next to the headstone, not caring about the mud that covers her knees. With shaking hands she carefully places the single red rose she has been holding the whole time down on the freshly piled soil. 

After fumbling with two buttons of her woolen coat she feels the edge of the still mostly dry envelope and pulls it out. She sets it next to the rose, weighing it down with a small stone. 

She kisses her fingers and then places them on the headstone. A last good bye to the woman that meant the world to her. 

Was her world. 

And even though she does not believe it’s also a promise.

A promise to see each other again. 

Someday in another world.

.

.

.

 _. beep . beep . beep_  .

The slow beeping tone filters through her foggy mind. 

Her throat hurts, her eyes are heavy. She tries to open them but they merely form two narrow slits when she clenches them shut again. The world is to bright. To blurry.

By now she knows she is not at home in her own bed in her small apartment or in her best friend’s guest room. She is in a hospital.

She starts opening her eyes again. More slowly this time. 

It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light, that still seems to bright. The blurry image sharpens and she can make out the outlines of a window facing the hallway and a chair next to her bed.

It’s empty.

She briefly wonders what happened before she remembers getting shot.

 _Shit. Maura kills me if she finds out_ , she then thinks.  _By the way, where is everybody?_  She would’ve thought to wake up to her mother being angry with her for getting shot again. And to Maura spouting of scientific facts and statistics. 

Before she can wonder any longer the door to her room opens and a man in his fifties steps in. 

„Ah, Ms. Rizzoli, I see you’re awake,“ he greets her in a cheery voice. „The bullet removal was a success. Your going to be as good as new in no time.“

.

The next thing she knows is two federal agents standing in the small hospital room at the end of her bed, talking to her, making her dizzy.

_Your family and friends were informed that the bullet wound was fatal._

The sentence is going round and round in her head. 

Her mother thinks she’s dead. Her brothers, partners. Maura. 

_Oh my god, Maura. She is going to be devastated._

Nobody knew that she was going undercover. Everyone thought she went on a vacation over the weekend. She left a disappointed Maura at home when she told her she was going alone. Didn’t want anyone with her. 

The only one that knew besides her and the feds was Cavanaugh. And even he now believes she died trying to take down a killer wanted all over the states. Once again a sick mind that searched her out for his even sicker fantasies.

.

_three weeks ago._

_„What’s wrong, Jane?“ Maura sits next to her in the car on the way to a crime scene, when Jane notices a black car trailing them. Not wanting to worry Maura she shakes her head, „Nothin’.“_

_Maura’s lip form a thin line, silently telling Jane that she doesn’t believe her, but she's also not asking further._

_She notices the same car again following her back to the precinct and later that day to the Dirty Robber. She has tried to loose them with no avail._

_The next day, when she’s driving into work in the morning she tricks them and catches them of guard. They have no chance but stepping out of the car._

_„What do you want?“ Jane growls at the two men in black suits. „Why do you follow me?“_

_„We’re her to make sure you’re safety is guaranteed,“ the taller one responds._

_„I can watch my own. What are you? FBI?“_

_They nod._

_After that she gets down to the FBI head quarters in Boston. To fill her in. When she’s in danger, what about her family? She will do anything to protect them._

_Nobody at the FBI is amused about her in involvement, but she has proven herself countless times during her time working for the BPD, so after much discussion that leads her to being her own decoy._

.

 _Only this time, it did not work as planned_ , she thinks. 

The mission was compromised and she is laying in the hospital with a gunshot wound to her shoulder. It wasn’t life threatening and the shooter missed major arteries and muscles. Only a few weeks of physical therapy and her arm would be as good as new.

As new as the life the FBI provided her with.

.

.

.

She is standing behind a tree, hair wet and plastered against her head. Drops of water running down from ringlets of dark hair.

She watched her own funeral.

Saw how her empty coffin was lowered into the grave.

Saw her mother collapsing into Frankie’s arms, sobbing loudly.

Saw Korsak and Frost, holding it together.

Saw Maura.

Maura. She appeared smaller, even though her back was more rigid than it has ever been. Her face hollow, the make-up doing nothing to conceal the dark circles under her eyes. 

Maura stays. 

Stays until the last person has left. Doesn’t go when Frankie asks her to come with them.

She is still standing there when the rain begins to fall.

When the dark gray day melts into an even darker night.

Only then she kneels down on her grave putting a rose on it and a small envelope. Saying some last words to herself that she can’t hear from the tree she is standing behind.

When Maura, too, has left she walks over to her own grave. 

Stands before it and tries putting on a brave face. It is hard to see the people that mean the most to mourning her death and she can do nothing about it.

She knows it’s probably wrong, but she can’t help and take the small envelope Maura placed under the small rock.

 _Jane_ is written on it in Maura’s perfectly neat handwriting. She cradles it to her heart before she slips it into the pocket of her jacket. 

Her arm is still in a sling.

It’s only three days after she woke up from surgery.

Three days since her family believes she’s dead.

.

Of course she shouldn’t have been at her own funeral. It was a foolish thing to do, she knows that. But she wanted to see them one more time before she would be taken to a foreign place. Somewhere nobody knew her. Somewhere she would be safe until the trial. To keep her family safe.

She sits on a filthy bed of a motel. Two agents standing guard outside of her door. She pries the letter Maura wrote her open.

 

.

_My dearest Jane,_

_I wish I had been stronger when you were still alive and told you._

_Told you how much you meant to me. Still mean to me._

_Told you that you saved me from myself. Showed me a life I never knew existed._

_You showed me how to be alive. Without you I would have never known._

_And now you are gone without knowing that I love you with all that I am._

_For as long as I live, you’ll always be in my heart._

_Until we meet again,_

_Maura_

.

 

Tears roll down Jane’s cheeks as she reads Maura’s letter again and again. 

Tears for the hurt that Maura must be going through. Her beautiful Maura. She feels sick for the emotional pain Maura has to endure because of her. 

She wants to hold her and tell her how much she loves her.

That she is sorry for not telling her that she went undercover.

That she is sorry for never telling her how much she loves her, too.

That Maura has saved her as well. 

Saved her from her own dark place of mind.

That she brought back the light.

.

.

.

The hot water pours down mercilessly on her naked skin. Tears stream down her face.

As soon as she had entered her home they began to flow. 

The first she allowed to flow freely since she got the devastating message of Jane’s death from Cavanaugh on Monday. 

When the water runs cold she shuts it off and roughly dries herself before falling down on her soft sheets on top of her bed. She doesn’t have the energy to dress herself. Sobs still whacking her body.

.

_plop._

A noise at her window.

_plop._

Again.

She sits up, still not dressed.

Jo Friday lays still on her bed watching the window.

_plop._

This time she is sure she heard correctly. Jo Friday’s tail wags on top of the duvet.

She carefully slips out of bed, grabbing the robe that hangs on her bathroom door and slips it on, tying it around her waist. 

She creeps along the wall to her window, carefully pulling the curtain aside a bit and peeks out into the darkness.

There is a huddled shadow under her window. It’s tall and lean. Wild hair.

Her heart is thumping hard against her sternum. 

 _Jane._  Could it be Jane?

She must be delusional.

The figure bends down and a moment later there’s another  _plop._ against her window. 

A small pebble.

And again.

And again.

She pinches herself several times.

She is not dreaming.

The huddled figure she sees standing outside under her window looks like the Jane she buried this afternoon.

 _Does she believe in ghosts?_  Of course not. A ghost-Jane also wouldn’t throw pebbles at her window. She’d simply appear next to her in her room she reasons.

Wether it’s real or not, she decides to investigate. That’s what Jane would do.

She takes the bat that’s leaning next to her bedroom door. Just in case. 

Jo Friday follows her down the stairs, her collar jingling as she walks. 

Carefully she opens her front door. Bare feet touching cool wet steps. Brushing the wet grass.

As silently as possible she sneaks around the corner of her house, to where the figure –  _Jane?_  – is standing under her window.

Her theory about the identity of the form solidifies when she nears her. The height. The hair. The posture. 

Her right arm is in a sling.

„Jane?“ her voice is hoarse and shaky from crying.

The shadow turns around to face her. Dark chocolate orbs are staring back at her.

„Jane!“ she now cries and lets the bat fall from her hands as she is running towards the other woman.

She throws her arm around her and Jo Friday is running circles around them.

„Oh my God, Jane,“ she sobs. Her hands cradle Jane’s face. She stares at her in wonder. 

Than she slaps her.

„How could you do this to me?“ she sobs but throws her arms back around the slender frame of her best friend.

.

.

.

_Fuck the feds._

She sneaked out. It was easy. 

So easy that she couldn’t believe it herself. 

So easy that the two agents standing guard at the door to her room seemed pointless. She was doing a better job at watching herself and her family on her own.

She wanted to find a way to tell Maura she loves her, too. That she wasn’t dead but alive. 

She doesn’t want to call. Maura wouldn’t believe her. Anyone could call and claim to be her. She doesn’t even have her cellphone anymore.

She decides to throw small pebbles at Maura’s bedroom window when she sees that the house is dark. 

She was just thinking about giving up and just walk into the house when she can hear her name.

The voice is so faint she almost doesn’t hear it.

Turning around there is Maura. 

Standing there in just a robe and nothing else. Her hair mussed up from sleeping. 

Jo Friday runs up behind her and a second later Maura is around her. Hugging her tightly.

Her wound hurts but she ignores it.

Maura is sobbing now and it makes Jane’s heart break once again. She’s so sorry for what she’s done to her.

She doesn’t see the hand coming.

A prickling sensation spreads over her left cheek.

Maura slabbed her and she deserved it.

„I’m so sorry, Maur’,“ she whispers into the blonde hair when Maura is back around her again. „So sorry.“

Her left arm pulls Maura as close as possible with the other arm in the sling between them.

She kisses the crown of Maura’s head over and over again.

„I love you, too,“ she mumbles between each kiss.

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.


End file.
